


Scraped Hearts and Scrapbooks

by Gargant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, JJ is a good boy, Post-Episode 11, Pre-Episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant
Summary: The Grand Prix Final Short Program has been a disaster for JJ, but that doesn't exempt him from his media obligations. There are questions to answer and cameras to face, and it doesn't matter how awful he's feeling because he's already made a commitment.Fortunately, he doesn't have to face any of it alone. He still has his fans. Most importantly, he still has his #1 Fan—and Isabella is determined to make sure he knows it.
Relationships: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Isabella Yang
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Scraped Hearts and Scrapbooks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pegasus143](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus143/gifts).



> Revisiting YOI to write this really just reminded me how supportive Isabella is, and how perfect these two are together. What a sweet power couple! It was great fun writing for them. I hope you enjoy your chocolate!

Three hours ago, Jean-Jacques Leroy had recorded the lowest score of his senior skating career.

Standing to one side, watching him stare into a spotlight that always adored him, Isabella had clasped her hands and prayed for this to end. When JJ looked to her she'd made herself a pillar of smiles and support. Of course she did! She would do anything to help him through this. But listening to the media asking those same cruel questions over and over again— _what went wrong_ and _what will you do_ and _can you still win_ —had taken an inevitable toll on them both. She was tired. They were both tired. When she'd closed their hotel room door behind them, parting way with JJ's fretful parents, Isabella had wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and put this whole awful day behind them.

Instead she turned to look at JJ, clapped her hands cheerfully together, and announced, "Okay! We have forty minutes to get ready. I'd like to shower too, so don't take too long."

JJ's browbeaten expression threatened to break her heart right there and then, and it took all the strength she had not to grab him into her arms and tell him _no, never mind, we'll stay here._ But she knew—they both knew—that that wasn't what he needed right now. Diligently, with one forlorn glance over his shoulder, JJ shuffled into the en-suite bathroom and closed the door behind him.

For a moment, at least, Isabella was left alone.

When she looked into the mirror, she found herself still smiling that manufactured for-the-cameras smile. It was an effort to remind herself that that wasn't necessary any more. Quietly, privately, Isabella pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut against the remembered glare of all those awful cameras. This evening would be better, for both of them. She just had to get them that far.

When JJ left the bathroom, she had already laid his outfit out on the foot of the bed. "Get dressed," She told him with an affectionate peck on the cheek, and left him to it. She couldn't afford to linger with him. Not yet.

The shower burned away the last pinches of frost from her tired muscles, left her feeling revitalised despite how little time she had to luxuriate. When she emerged, make-up reapplied and her own delightfully slinky evening wear comfortably smoothed down over her hips, JJ was sitting on the end of the bed.

He looked up, a hollowness settled under his eyes, and said, "I can't do it."

She loved him for that. There was nothing he could ever say that she wouldn't love coming from him.

He was dressed, his tailoring as sharp and handsome as the cologne he'd chosen to use. Even now he made her heart stutter in her throat. She would never completely understand how she'd been lucky enough to catch his eye. Isabella smiled at him, gentle and fond, and asked, "Can't do what?"

She already knew the answer. Just like she already knew that he _could_ do this, and _would_ do this. He'd taken the time to get ready, which meant that deep down he'd already made up his mind. This was JJ, after all—he would _never_ let his fans down. The only person who needed reminding of that now was Jean-Jacques Leroy himself.

"I can't face them. I'll just disappoint them again."

Softly, slowly, Isabella crouched down in front of her fiancé, knees pressed cautiously together where they emerged from beneath her dress.

"Oh JJ, you're their number one. You always will be! You've never disappointed them."

"I disappointed them today!" JJ groaned the words, hands coming up to shove through his own hair as he relived those awful moments all over again. "I disappointed everyone. I disappointed _you_. The only thing I was today was the Number One Disappointment!"

"Oh, shush," Isabella scolded lightly, careful not to get drawn in by his melancholy. There was merit in letting JJ have his space here, a place where he could grieve and lament without inhibition. Her JJ was rarely ever dishonest with his feelings, but love for his fans had taught him a certain hesitation about what he should display to that public eye. In front of his fan club, the JJ Girls, he would only ever present the courageous star that shone brightest in the night sky—the man they adored and admired so much.

Only privately, with Isabella, did that brilliant light allowed itself to dim. If she could give him that, then she would do so gladly.

But right now she needed to help him shine again. He needed to remember just how much light he held inside himself. She needed to remind him of everything he could be, regardless of anything that happened on the ice.

When JJ reached to touch one of her knees, Isabella smiled at him—and held that smile together even despite the shimmer of emotions she could see wavering in his grey eyes. "I disappointed you," He repeated again, despite her protest. Whispery and low, he finished, "I disappointed _us_."

_Ah..._

She wouldn't make him say it out loud, and... no, she wouldn't disrespect him by trying to conceal the sadness that lumped up in her chest at the reminder. Perhaps she was trying too hard, here—perhaps it _was_ okay to be a little upset. Jean-Jacques would not be winning this year's Grand Prix Final. The dream of becoming Isabella Leroy would have to wait another season.

When she reached up to gently catch one teardrop on the back of her finger, careful to preserve her mascara, JJ's chin dropped toward his chest. It was awful, seeing so much hurt riding on his shoulders. Isabella tightened her crouch and ducked her head down to catch his eye, determinedly drawing him back from that hole she could see him sinking toward. Gaze successfully caught, she straightened again and brought him back up with her.

"You know I'll wait," She whispered, and laced their hands together. "As long as it takes."

A voice in the back of her mind told her it was the wrong thing to say—that she was applying pressure to freshly cracked glass, adding more weight to an unbalanced scale—but it was what _she_ needed to hear. That had to count for something. "I'll wait with you forever if I have to. As long as we're together, that's good enough for me."

JJ's voice cracked against a sound he didn't seem quite willing to express. Lips tight and trembling, he squeezed her hand back and nodded.

Something about that helped her make up her mind.

Isabella climbed back to her feet, nimble in her short skirt and tall heels. JJ's hand slipped from her grip to land back against his knees. "Close your eyes," She ordered him, hands on her hips and a determined jut to her lip that made it perfectly clear she wouldn't be taking no for an answer. JJ obeyed without question, and her heart clenched to see that tiniest hint of a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. Unshed tears gleamed along his eyelashes, and even _that_ was handsome on him.

She loved that face. She loved the depth with which he felt every one of his emotions. And she loved knowing that she had something to give him that he would never guess.

The book was concealed in the bottom of her suitcase. Isabella retrieved it, fingers brushing reverently over the hardcover surface before she straightened once again to return to JJ's side. For a second she considered sitting beside him, but she _so_ wanted to watch his face as he looked through the pages. Instead she crouched once again, the same spot as before, and carefully laid the gift upon his lap.

_Now_ he was smiling, just like a kid on Christmas morning. She resisted the urge to pinch his stupid cute cheeks. "You can look now."

JJ opened his eyes.

It was more of a scrapbook, really. Painstakingly prepared by dozens upon dozens of loving hands. JJ's eyebrows drew together at first, perplexed as he tried to figure out what he was looking at. Then, as he lifted the book in his hands and once again read that hand-crafted title— _Jean-Jacques Leroy - A JJ Girl Worldwide Tribute_ —Isabella watched the emotion dawning on his face once more. "Look inside," She told him gently, and steeped herself in fondness as he did so.

"I was supposed to give it to you tomorrow," She explained, and did not clarify _after you won the gold_. He didn't need to hear that. "But I don't think anyone would disagree with you having it now instead. We've been working on this project for months." JJ's eyes flickered from her to the pages before him, back and forth and back again as he continued flipping through the contents. Artworks, stories, poetry, photographs... "There are contributions from people all over the world. You have fans _everywhere_."

Her fiancé had never looked more flabbergasted. Or more adorable. "They're so talented!"

"They're so _inspired_. And so grateful. They love you so much."

Once again, his voice caught. "And I—I let them down—"

" _No_ , love! Read what they're saying to you! They love you because you face every challenge head-on. They love you because you always greet the competition with a smile. They love your strength and your courage. Because you always give everything your best, no matter how hard it might be. And that's what you're going to do tonight, isn't it? That's what you'll do tomorrow as well, and every day that comes after."

"Face it with a smile...?"

"And never ever give up."

The smile he launched at her then was brilliant, bright, and every bit the man she'd first fallen in love with. "It's easy with you beside me."

"So glad I can help, dear!" Isabella beamed at him, and reached over to snag the purse she'd left waiting on the corner of the bed. It only took a moment for her to find what she was looking for; she popped the compact open, and held the mirror out in front of her. JJ, bless his hopeless vanity, immediately winced at the redness lingering about his eyes. "Don't worry about that," Isabella cooed at him before he could even begin to feel more sorry for himself. "No one will notice. _Now_ , tell me. Who is staring back at you?"

JJ blinked, first at how own startled reflection, and then directly at her. When understanding dawned it came with a cheerfully rueful smile. "You want me to say the whole thing?" He asked, and for all that he wore the look of a wounded puppy, Isabella could hear the grateful humour that unpinned his words.

She knew, then, that he was going to be okay.

"Just tell me the truth," She replied, and squeezed his knee with her other hand. JJ nodded at her. He smiled.

The whole world smiled with him.

"A King."

If he had won the Grand Prix, she would have loved him as much as she always had. Now, watching him rise from despair to be the man she knew him to be, Isabella thought she might end up loving him even more than ever. Perhaps, in the end, _this_ was the truest victory he could have taken. This, more than anything, would leave him stronger than ever before.

Nothing about her outfit could keep Isabella from jumping effortlessly back to her feet, clicking her compact closed and tossing it toward the bed before clapping her hands eagerly together and offering her own most dazzling smile.

"Now! Let's go and show them what a King really is."

They had places to be. Appointments to keep. And she wanted the world to see her on the arm of the man she _still_ adored above anyone else.


End file.
